Peking Pork
by Pilgrimage
Summary: Slightly AU, where Artemis' hometown of Gotham is common knowledge. Artemis works at a Chinese restaurant, where she not only has to deal with an infuriating boss but has to entertain two simpering teammates.


A/N: I couldn't deal. Working on Sundays at a Chinese restaurant is so boring, and so, naturally, I get spitfire feels and my mind wanders.

* * *

They had to come in on a relatively quiet Sunday night, where she would be the only one to serve the two.

Now, let it be known that the only uniform Artemis Crock will grudgingly don to meet an end is Gotham Academy's navy and white, complete with pleated skirt, much to her chagrin and more grudging. However, there's the fact that Gotham Academy's generous scholarship does not include payment for said uniform or books or bus fare or a lot things Artemis has yet to tabulate in her monthly expenditure list. So, she takes on another persona with uniform, one that pays about as minimum as you can get in Gotham City.

She's wearing a qípáo, a green and black number that shouldn't skim just above her knee if it's attempting to honour the traditional gown, but it does and she has quickly learned that this establishment is anything but the honouring type. Not to say that she hasn't tried her protests, because she has, insisting she doesn't even have an ounce of Chinese blood coursing through her, though that cause has fallen to the deaf ears of her pig-headed boss.

She wears her hair up, instead of leaving it down and pinned with pretty clips like the other waitress have been instructed to do. Her tiny victory, she reminds herself and has to bite her cheek every shift start because it really isn't any kind of real victory. _It pays_, is another reminder, but in her Mother's voice.

"Welcome to Flying Tiger, can I get you anything to drink?" Artemis tries in her cheeriest tone, but she is sure it comes out a smidgen higher from apathy. She doesn't even lift her gaze from her order pad.

She cringes as her eyes finally match the poorly concealed fit to the pair sitting in front of her.

"Well, well…"

Artemis' eyes narrow at the only boy who can manage to punctuate arrogance and bravado in the least amount of syllables one sentence can hold, his fiery hair glaring in the dimly lit, box-of-a-restaurant. She tries her best to shake the queasy feeling in her stomach.

_Who is she kidding_, she groans inwardly. She's not sure she can stomach both _him_ and Robin taunting her here, not as she is now; she's not armed.

"Aren't you two supposed to be from different sides of the map," she whispers sternly, continuing in an even more hushed voice. "You know, sticking to your aliases."

"Batman knows." Wally waves her comment away as if that's all the justification she needs. Robin glares at him, giving him a vigourous, warning cough to catch his attention.

"Nice dress," Robin says. Both Wally and Artemis stare at the boy, so he clears his throat. "You're wearing the cheongsam wrong, but you wouldn't know that, considering your _real_ background."

Wally considers her wide eyes, but says nothing. She is relieved, but she can still feel her heart thumping wildly against her chest.

"You're half-Vietnamese, obviously." Artemis glares at the dark-haired troll of a boy. And he's still not keeping his giggles modest, while Wally just shrugs.

"Obviously, that's why she's got that funny look about her," Wally explains to his friend as a matter-of-fact. Robin offers a fraction of a smirk, and looks up at Artemis.

"Now, every Chinese restaurant has an authentic menu, perhaps we can look at that instead?"

Wally eagerly agrees with a wide grin.

She waits until the owner retreats into the kitchen to slam two menus down in front of them. She almost knocks both heroes' heads together as she grips their collars, her notepad forgotten at her feet.

"How convenient for you two to pop in here by chance, or are you two stalkers?" Artemis is seething now, but doesn't stop when they both shake their heads (Robin looks less convincing with a slight twist from his lips). "I've got a Trig exam at eight in the morning that I will not lose sleep over to cram after this shift, so I _am_ clocking out of here on time. Got it?"

She releases them, and while Robin stays good-natured and smiley as he always is, Wally is crossing his arms, noticeably flushed from hairline to chin.

"Are you…wearing lipstick?" Wally asks, while Robin openly cackles.

"URGH!"

Just when she brings the boys their ice waters, the restaurant door swings open, and four more customers arrive. The owner mouths her to seat them immediately, and she is relieved to tell the boys to wait. She does not see Wally making faces as she leaves.

She's in front of them, the new group, waiting for them to acknowledge her. Finally, a low whistle comes from one of them. She supposes it's the de-facto leader, considering his bigger build and smug look about him.

She isn't fazed in the least, because she's used to bottom feeders that her father is associated to reacting the same way around her. In fact, compared to the men that have dared to flirt with her in her father's presence, these _boys_ are just your run-of-the-mill Gotham brats.

Push-overs.

Manageable.

"Sweetheart," he says, leering at her legs then trails his eyes up to her face. "I haven't seen you here before, are you new?"

For some reason, she chooses this moment to catch a glimpse of her other table, and is caught off guard by Wally's curious stare. He quickly busies himself with the menu.

"You're not very observant then," is the only thing she offers.

He snorts. "You're funny, sweetheart." He leans closer to her, and she stares blankly at him, her pen digging into her paper. "What do you think I'd like to eat tonight?"

"Well," she says, tapping her foot impatiently now. "There's this menu I've put in front of you, and if you can _read_, there's…" She trails off, seeing the owner crossing the bar to walk towards them.

"I suggest the Butterfly Shrimp, it's my favourite," she says, her feigned smile tugs uncomfortably at her skin.

Her portly boss is in her peripheral vision. He is pretending to inspect the place settings at the nearby tables. He passes by, grins too widely at the group and shoots a suspicious glare at her.

"Ah, well, if it's your favourite, you'll have to sit and join me when it's ready." The others around him snicker.

"I have another table," she deadpans. "Can I get you all ice waters while you look over the menu?"

"That'll be just fine," he says with a half-lidded stare. As she turns on her heel, she is sure he is still watching her because her skin is crawling.

"Yeesh," Robin says as she approaches them. "You couldn't tutor after school instead of spending your time in this dump, serving to a bunch of low-lives?"

"You're eating here." She rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, but I _know_ we have better extracurriculars," Robin doesn't lower his glasses, but he doesn't have to for her to know he's winking. Wally just nods, eyeing the other table.

"I really don't have to remind you two that I'm more than capable. Now, what would the lovely couple like to eat tonight?"

Robin picks a dinner special he says looks sufficient for three stomachs, with a few substitutions. All the while, she is suspicious of an uncharacteristically quiet—"Earth to Kid Mouth, that's all you're eating? Really, no seconds, thirds, fourths?"

"Huh?" Wally jerks his head up from an intense glare over his shoulder. "Oh, yeah, whatever's good."

Artemis can handle waiting on three and, depending on the rush, four tables at a time. She makes idle chatter when it's required. She is efficient and, thanks to her keen sense of balance, she can manage more serving platters than most of her coworkers. It's relatively easy work, when she thinks about it. Though, if she's being honest with herself, the tips almost always bring her back to the restaurant without her contemplating about the drawbacks for too long.

Then there are these nights. She makes her way to the table of Gotham brats, and she remembers how much she is capable of hating this temp job. It's the way the one boy licks his lips, the way he slicks back his black hair, and the way he still can't decide what body part he should concentrate on (never her face for more time than he can help it).

She is about ready to snap when he calls her 'sweet cheeks', and she even hears a distinct snapping noise behind her (she replaces Wally's disposable chopsticks later), but her mother's voice reminds her about next month's car service bill.

"Hey, sweetheart," the jerk who won't quit calls, and even reaches for her, taking her wrist and guiding her his way. "What are you doing after this?"

A strangled cry startles them.

Before Artemis has the chance to react, she staggers backwards from Robin bumping her aside, while he struggles to push Wally away. The two boys are a mess of limbs tangled and pushing against each other. They straighten abruptly, however, as they see her huffing and crossing the distance to meet them. She pulls them by the earlobe in the direction of their seats, and they plop back into them in no time.

"Are you trying to get me canned?!" She spits out, and she's tempted to hold them up by their collars again because their blank stares are just infuriating. "We don't know each other here. Teenage boys don't break the sound barrier in the middle of restaurants. Secret identities _compromised_. Any bells yet?"

Robin is the first to move, smartly kicking Wally in the shin.

"Why are you letting them treat you that way?" Wally says seriously. "You would never let that slide if I—if anyone even dared to try and pull something like that on you."

"I need this," she says before she can stop herself, and it sounds just as pitiful as it makes her feel.

She must have struck a nerve in both heroes since they remain quiet, their eyes downcast.

"So, please, leave it alone. I can handle it."

"But—" Robin finally pipes up.

"This isn't my first time dealing with slobbering idiots."

She catches Wally staring, brows knit tightly together as she fixes her dress. "This is bull and you know it," she hears him mutter under his breath.

She considers him only for a moment before looking up to see the owner moving out from the bar, crossing his arms to his front. "Listen, you two are done, so you should just leave now."

"No." Wally shakes his head.

Artemis and Robin exchange a curt nod, and she knows he knows. She releases a relaxed breath as he tries once, twice, three times to get Wally standing and moving out of their seats. She rings them up at the cashier machine, and sees them exit, the door closing behind them lets her breathe easier already.

_One dish left to serve_, she reminds herself. _Just one more, and they leave too_. She eyes the clock and sees her clock out time is less than ten minutes away. So, something obviously had to interrupt this pleasant realization.

"Sweet cheeks," the lead boy, mussing up his hair, it's greased up from all the times he's slicked it back, calls her over. "Mind if I get a take-out order from you?"

She secures their last dish in one hand, and reaches for her pad with her free hand, only he reaches over to stop her. "I meant to say," he begins, releasing her hand and rests his on her hip. "I'd like to take you out, you look good enough to—"

"AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!"

It's a blur of a boy keeled over with a shoe-shaped imprint bleeding on his cheek, while his friends cower in their seats or are similarly sprawled next to him. The only clear image is one she particularly relishes: she flings her order pad over the owner's chest, and he is blubbering, catatonic.

"You boys hungry?" She calls behind her as she bursts through the swinging door, the last time she ever will, she realizes, running towards the alleyway she's envisioned running through on countless shifts.

She knows they wouldn't resist, and it causes a genuine smile to break through her concentration when she sees them appear from their stake-out behind the parking lot dumpster.

They are running at her side, and she hears Robin giggling, throwing his head back, and pointing out that she's still balancing a perfectly intact serving dish in one hand. Wally slows to their running pace, a glazed-look in his eyes.

"Peking pork," she offers the redhead, who looks simply ravenous.

They round a corner, and she's slowed some to peer over her shoulder at her newly, former employment.

"You didn't deserve—" Wally starts.

"I know," she interjects, exasperated, but softens to continue, "thanks." She hands him the dish, his eyes glittering in the dark.

Artemis and Robin bump shoulders, running side by side now. "Were you even planning on sharing?" Robin shouts after Wally, who has picked up an unfair amount of speed.

"Wha?" The speedster turns, running backwards, red sauce dripping from the corners of his stuffed mouth.

"Kid Vacuum," Robin grumbles, while Artemis takes extreme pleasure in cackling at him for a change.


End file.
